


Fakers Gonna Fake

by Minuialeth75



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Gen, M/M, Mates, Scent Marking, Scenting, full shift derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuialeth75/pseuds/Minuialeth75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the universe’s sick idea of a joke. He was supposed to pretend he was dating Derek?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fakers Gonna Fake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rabbitxheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitxheart/gifts).



> Set after Season 4.  
> AU because Stiles and Malia aren’t dating. That scene in Eichen House didn’t set well with me. Sorry folks!  
> Title thanks to Taylor Swift :-)

Having a pack meeting at Deaton’s clinic was weird. Usually this place was full of pain, blood, cries and… shit, he really didn’t need that flashback of him – no, not him, _not_ him – slicing through Scott with a katana right now. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and when he opened them, he met Scott’s worried ones. He shook his head with a smile he knew was probably a bit tremulous.

Deaton hadn’t said it was a pack meeting but given that the whole pack was here… Even Derek, who still liked to pretend he wasn’t part of Scott’s pack though he was settling into a position Stiles called _Here Let Me Help You Out of This Shit With My Knowledge And My Awesome Fighting Skills_. 

Thinking back on how Scott had used him against Gerard – clearly not his bro's best moment – he’d have never thought anything like that would happen. But Derek had changed. A lot.  
When Braeden had left Beacon Hills to resume her search for the Desert Wolf, he had expected Derek to revert back to some of his past grumpiness, but he hadn’t. He guessed they must have parted on good terms.

Derek would never be Mister Sunshine – that would be too creepy anyway – but he had… mellowed? He looked like he was more comfortable in his own skin, less on the brink of splintering apart if provoked. Stiles had stopped being scared of him some time ago (he’d never admit to Derek’s face that he had indeed been scared at one point) and now he found he was no longer truly irritated and annoyed by him.  
He’d been attracted to Derek since the very beginning. It hadn’t come as a surprise as he’d already known then that he was bi. And frankly how could anyone _not_ be attracted to Derek? He was hot, even in his Beta shift.  
But the guy had been a total douchebag at the time, not to mention that they’d thought that he was the Alpha on a killing spree. So Stiles had told his dick to calm the fuck down. Even more so when he had discovered through a conversation with Scott about Allison that werewolves could smell sexual arousal. He hadn’t wanted Derek to act on his ‘rip your throat out with my teeth’ threat.  
But trust had crept in. And respect. And admiration. And fondness. Then he had seen Derek in a pool of his own blood. What he had felt was something he’d thought was reserved for his dad and Scott. That was how he’d known he was fucked. He could reign in his dick, but not his feelings, it seemed. Feelings for Derek Hale. Ludicrous. Yet…

“… Sacramento Pack contacted me. They’d like to meet Scott and his pack,” he caught the end of Deaton’s sentence. He had no idea how long he’d zoned out. He figured Scott would make him a summary of what he had missed. 

Scott and Derek simultaneously frowned. Scott was the one to speak out. “Why didn’t they contact me?”

“Their Alpha has known me for years,” Deaton said with that enigmatic smile Stiles found annoying. “Word has gotten out of your True Alpha status, Scott. That and the fact that your pack is… unusual, is attracting attention from other packs of nearby territories.”

“Good attention or bad attention?” Stiles found himself asking.

“From the Sacramento Pack? Good.” Which Stiles took as meaning that there were other packs that weren’t as friendly interested. But somehow he thought that beating Deucalion’s pack of Alphas made Scott look way more ferocious than he was, and intimidated the more violent packs. As long as they never saw his patented puppy eyes and goofy smile, the illusion would hold.

“I also got the feeling that what cemented their interest in meeting you was the rumors about Derek’s new ability.”

Stiles wasn’t looking at the werewolf right now but he could almost feel his eye roll. He’d gotten good at that.

“As I said, this is a highly unusual pack,” Deaton resumed. “A True Alpha, a Banshee, a Kitsune, a werecoyote and your first Beta. And now a Hale who has reached full shift ability like Talia Hale.”

“And the token Human,” Stiles said, raising his hand.

“Ah. This is also why I’ve asked you all to come here.”

Stiles hated that tone. It was the ‘by the way, there’s something hugely important I’ve kept to myself’ tone. He was pleased to see the frown on Derek’s face matching his thoughts.

“They said they also wanted to meet the pack’s Emissary,” Deaton resumed with a pointed look at Stiles.

Stiles laughed. Because it was ridiculous. “Good one, man.”

Deaton’s eyebrows raised. “This is not a joke, Stiles. You’re this pack’s Emissary.”

The others looked as shocked and disbelieving as he felt. Except Derek, who only looked… mildly surprised.

“I’m nothing like you. I’m not a druid,” he said to Deaton. Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the vet was kinda awesome when he wasn’t an annoying and cryptic druidic Yoda.  
Deaton smiled indulgently at him, like he would a kid. He’d forgotten he hated that smile, too.

“Emissaries aren’t necessarily druids, though a lot of them are.”  
Stiles noted that Deaton had said ‘them’, not ‘us’. He had been under the impression all along that the man was Scott’s unofficial Emissary but apparently he truly no longer even considered himself like one. “An Emissary is someone who advises the Alpha, who helps him in any way he can. Someone who isn’t influenced by the Alpha’s power. Someone who is necessary to the pack’s balance. Tell me in which way you aren’t already filling this role?”

Scott’s face broke into a grin. “He’s right. You’ve been helping me since the beginning. Even with controlling my shift!”

Liam gaped at him. Apparently he hadn’t known of Scott’s difficult beginnings. Stiles could feel himself coloring under the praise and scratched the back of his neck.

“I think you also have a bit of magical abilities. You did manage to close a perfectly functioning mountain ash circle,” Derek said.

Stiles felt his _whole body_ flushing. How could Derek remember this? Now everyone was looking at him with various degrees of awe on their faces. Even Lydia. Hadn’t she known about this?!

“Dude, I had no idea you could do this! This is awesome!” Scott exclaimed.

“Well, you were a bit busy trying to stay alive at the time. And well, I’ve not tried it since and I’m really not sure I could do it again, so…” he explained with a dismissive hand gesture. He wished Liam would stop looking at him like he was a second Scott. Even Malia didn’t have her usual ‘everyone is beneath me’ look. Perhaps it was because they knew, but the identity of her father was very obvious when she did this. Thankfully she was a lot less unhinged than her father. She was just a bit… unpredictable.

“You can always come to me if you ever wish to explore this side of yourself further, Stiles,” Deaton simply said. And Stiles… just didn’t know if he wanted this. He had wrecked enough chaos when the Nogitsune was inside him. He wanted to feel as ordinary as possible for a while. Doing magic stuff wouldn’t help with that. Maybe one day, when he no longer had flashbacks of Scott’s face contorted in pain, and of Allison dying in his arms.

“Anyway, Alpha Bailey – Rob Bailey – sees you as Scott’s Emissary and it poses a bit of a problem.” _Here we go_ , Stiles thought. “Their Emissary died of old age recently. Rob himself isn’t exactly young either and he’s rather… traditional regarding werewolves customs. If an Emissary of a newly formed pack doesn’t have an obvious deep link to that pack, then the Alpha can be challenged into letting that Emissary go into another older, stronger pack.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Stiles exclaimed. “What kind of medieval custom is that?!”

“Well, it is indeed a custom from the medieval era,” Deaton replied. He looked way too calm about this.

“Stiles is like my brother, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” Scott looked hopeful.

“If he really _was_ your brother, then it could work in your favor. Stiles needs a different kind of link to the pack than friendship, sorry Scott.”

“What you are saying is that Alpha Bailey could challenge Scott to get Stiles? I assume you are talking about a fighting challenge?” Derek said.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Then where’s the problem, Scott’s a True Alpha, I’m sure he can beat him!”

Deaton smiled indulgently at Liam. “You’d be surprised at what an old Alpha can do. And even so, the Bailey Pack has allied packs in the state and beyond. The McCall Pack is a new and rather motley pack. What do you think would happen if Scott managed to kill Rob Bailey?”

There was silence as the magnitude of the situation dawned on all of them. He, Derek and Scott exchanged looks. It was often like this now. As respectively the oldest members of the pack and Alpha, they sort of formed the core of the pack. It had freaked out Stiles at first because it had felt like an eerie connection. He had said so in Derek’s presence. The werewolf had thrown him an odd look and said that a pack bond could feel like this. Stiles had felt somewhat reassured, no longer viewing the sensation as intrusive. It wasn’t like it made him want to do bad things. Well, at least not against his will.

“You have a solution,” Derek said to Deaton.  
“I have indeed.”  
Jesus, was he going to make them beg?! 

“What is that solution?” Lydia’s clipped tone betrayed her impatience.  
“Yeah, what is it?” Malia added, her countenance speaking of the same feeling.  
Kira just raised her eyebrows in encouragement. Kira was always the more serene during pack meetings.

“It would be desirable for Stiles to have a very close link with another member of the pack…” Scott opened his mouth. “Not you, Scott, not that kind of link, I’ve already told you.”

“Do you mean like, _dating_?” Malia asked. Before Stiles could scoff at the suggestion, Deaton nodded. He fucking nodded. Shit.  
“Are you kidding me?!” He seemed to say that a lot tonight.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea” “That’s out of the question,” Scott and Derek said at the same time, Derek looking peeved. They glanced at each other, Scott looking surprised at Derek’s violent outburst, and Derek at his own reaction.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Lydia said in a tone that wasn’t flattering to Stiles’ ego. He’d have been a bit hurt if he’d been still crushing on her. As it was, he snorted.  
“Could you try not sounding like you’re volunteering for a human sacrifice?”  
Lydia arched an eyebrow at him, but it was obvious she was trying not to smile.

“No offense Lydia, but we need someone who has a higher rank in the pack. And I never said that Stiles and that person needed to _actually_ date, did I?” Deaton seemed way too amused by the whole situation. 

“Okay, who?” Derek asked in a sharp tone.  
There was a muscle twitching in his jaw that Stiles had seen way too many times. If anything _he_ should be the one the most annoyed about this, not Derek.

“You, Derek,” Deaton finally answered.

“What?!” Stiles and Derek exclaimed in perfect unison.

This was a nightmare. This was the universe’s sick idea of a joke. He was supposed to pretend he was dating Derek?! And did Derek need to look so dismayed? He knew he wasn’t the catch of the year but apparently he was like Alphanip, so...  
Stiles tried to tell himself he shouldn’t feel disappointed by Derek’s reaction. He really shouldn’t. Everything pointed to Derek being hetero and even if he wasn’t, it’s not like he’d be interested in _him_. They were so not in the same league they weren’t even playing the same sport.  
He rubbed his face. When he looked up, Derek looked… hurt? Was he seeing things? Why would _Derek_ feel hurt?

“Why Derek?” Kira asked, probably beating Derek to it as he had obviously been about to say something.

“It has to be a werewolf because given Alpha Bailey’s traditional views, only a tie to a werewolf will be significant in his eyes. It can’t be Scott because it’ll be obvious to werewolves that you are the one he’s with,” Deaton patiently explained. “It can’t be Liam because he’s newly bitten and won’t be seen as someone important enough to be deterring.”

“But Derek is important,” Liam said, sounding more curious than vexed by Deaton’s words.

“As I said, he now has the unique ability to fully shift into a wolf,” Deaton told Derek with a small smile. “But he’s also a Hale. Beacon Hills was founded by his family and, with the surrounding lands, was their territory. Not to mention that the Hales are a very, very old werewolf family. Their name is still very much respected among werewolves.”

Stiles glanced at Derek. He seemed to be thoroughly studying the tiled floor. His ears were red. It was so ludicrous it took a moment for Stiles to realize that the werewolf was _blushing_. Now that he knew he could see the flushed skin above his beard. Derek was embarrassed by all the praise.  
It wasn’t cute or adorable. _It wasn’t_. Derek was attractive enough when he played his hard ass werewolf role. Well, it wasn’t exactly a role. More like an aspect of his persona he liked to project like a protective wall. But the wall had started cracking some time ago, at least around the pack.  
He’d discovered that when Derek let go of his foreboding act, he revealed his warm heart.  
The more Stiles saw what was behind the cracks, the more he… felt things for Derek. Derek who looked appalled at the idea of fake dating him. Just… great.

“Are you saying that I’m like werewolf royalty?” Malia interjected. Trust Malia to jump on this piece of information. “Why I’m not the one pretending to date Stiles? I’m a Hale too.”

“You are, but technically, you are a were _coyote_ , Malia, not a were _wolf_. Trust me, this distinction is very important to Alpha Bailey,” Deaton said.

“He sounds like a racist jerk,” Stiles couldn’t help but comment. 

“He’s indeed very conservative,” Deaton confirmed.

“Er, isn’t he going to be pissed off by two guys dating? Isn’t your plan going to backfire?” Stiles told himself he wasn’t trying to back off from the whole situation.

“For werewolves, gender isn’t really important,” Derek said.

Oh. _Oh_. Stiles’ heart jumped in a stupidly hopeful way before he remembered Derek’s look of dismay when he’d learnt that he’d have to pretend to date him. Derek’s comment didn’t mean anything at all, at least not where he was concerned. He turned to Deaton, trying to break off Derek’s stare.

“Okay. So, how do we do this? When do they arrive?”

Deaton turned to Scott. “Alpha Bailey is going to contact you very soon, probably in a couple of days, to warn you that he and his pack are going to go through your territory. As the Alpha of said territory, you have to ask to meet him.”

“Why not telling me he’d like to meet me and my pack?” Scott asked.

“Because an official planned meeting would make you seem more important than he thinks you are?” Stiles proposed, looking to Deaton for confirmation.

“Stiles is right,” Deaton said. “Pretending to pass through your territory will make it look like something accidental, not like he’s purposely seeking you out. This way, he hopes to hide his interest in Stiles.”

“Can’t he suspect that you’ve guessed his intentions?” Scott asked.

“Oh, I do think he’s perfectly aware that I know he’s more than curious about Stiles. But he was led to believe that I was a tad disappointed in Scott’s leadership and didn’t wish to be involved in anything he does.”

Deaton was really devious. It was a good thing he was on their sides. Well, at least he appeared to be most of the time. Deaton hid too many secrets for Stiles to ever trust him completely. Given the way Derek sometimes looked at him, Stiles suspected he felt the same way. Not Scott, though. Deaton was like Scott’s Obi-Wan.

“When can we expect them to ‘pass through’?” Derek asked.

“Very soon is my guess.”

“So that means we don’t have a lot of time to…” Stiles gestured between him and Derek.

“Indeed not,” Deaton confirmed.

Stiles had a thousand questions to ask, but he didn’t really want an audience outside of Derek. Really embarrassing times laid ahead.

“I’ll text everyone as soon as Alpha Bailey contacts me,” Scott explained, catching the eye of every single pack member.

“Also let me know when they’re here,” Deaton asked. Scott nodded.

As his brain began to jump ahead, Stiles realized something.

“You know my father is going to notice that something unusual is happening, right? Especially if I start to hang out with Derek alone.”

“Of course you can tell him about the visiting pack and the situation with Derek,” Deaton said.

“Oh no. Ahahaha, no. _You_ are the one who's going to tell my father why I have to pretend I'm dating Derek Hale, not me. Your plan, your explanation.”

Stiles didn't know if it was his imagination, but it seemed that Deaton's smile was a little tense. He didn't blame him: his father could be terrifying.  
He missed Derek’s small smile.

“Oh, and no word about me being an Emissary. No word, zilch. No need to worry my father needlessly.”

He had to stay boringly human for as long as possible in his father’s eyes. It wasn’t like he was going to become Harry Potter overnight, after all. He wanted his father to forget the time he hadn’t been entirely human so he could stop worrying about him. Well, at least about that.

“What do you propose I tell your father?”

“He doesn't know anything about pack dynamics. Tell him that Bailey wants me because I'm the weakest link of Scott's Pack? The only human?”

“I will do so if it is your wish.”

________________________________________

Everyone left the clinic, Stiles among the firsts. The enormity of the situation was catching up with him and he wanted to freak out in private.  
If he wasn’t good enough at pretending he was with Derek, Scott would have to fight another Alpha to keep him in the pack. The irony of it all was that he wouldn’t need to _pretend_ he was attracted to Derek. At all. He’d just have to stop hiding the fact that he was. Then Derek would know and it would be very humiliating. Then things would be awkward as hell and Derek and him would drift apart and shit, that was assuming he’d still be in Beacon Hills and not in Sacramento or in the middle of a werewolf war…

“Stiles!”

He felt a hand on his arm, gently tugging him to turn. Derek. He looked… worried? Stiles guessed it wasn’t the first time he was calling him.

“Stiles, you’re okay?”

“If I’m not good enough at pretending I’m dating you, my best friend might end up fighting a powerful Alpha and I could end up being his non-con Emissary. What do you think?”

Derek flinched.

“Sorry,” they both said at the same time.

“What are you sorry for?” Stiles said. “You’re not the one who put everyone into this mess.”

“And you think this is you?”

“I’m the one Bailey wants.”  
“You got it right: _Alpha Bailey_ is the one who put us into this mess.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue. He didn’t know what he was going to say. Derek was standing a bit closer than usual and it was distracting.

“Look, I’m the master of guilt trips. If I tell you it’s not your fault, then it’s not. That’s final.”

Stiles blinked, his mounting panic coming to a full stop. Had Derek just made light of his past? He met his eyes, gaping. Derek just raised his eyebrows as if daring him to say something.

He didn’t dare to think that Derek had just gone out of his way to make him feel better. Down this path laid madness and false hope. He’d just done it as a friend. Yep, that was it. A friend.  
He was pretty sure they were friends now. They’d saved each other asses several times, Derek no longer threatened him with bodily harm, they even spent time doing research together.  
Stiles may be Research Man but Derek knew his way around the Hales’ archives better. He was also the one who could access the Hales’ vault. And for some reason he didn’t trust Stiles alone in there.  
At first it had annoyed him but then, bit by bit, he’d realized that Derek was like a well of knowledge when it came to the supernatural. It was sexy. Derek the Well of Knowledge was sexy. Well, sexier. The downside to this was that when Derek helped with his research – or the other way round, it had become unclear after a while – Stiles was like 50% less effective. Because Derek was distracting. Not to mention he had to devote some of his concentration to prevent awkward boners.

“Ooookay. Let’s say it’s that psycho Alpha’s fault. We still have to… go over… stuff.”  
“I know. I could…”  
“My father leaves for his shift in two hours. Come and see me?” Stiles cut. He knew he’d feel more at ease in his own space rather than at Derek’s cavernous loft.

Derek stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, I’ll see you at your house.”

________________________________________

His father had been gone for twenty minutes and still no sign of Derek.  
Stiles was hungry so he grabbed a can of Coke and a bag of chips he started eating on the spot. He wanted to do some research on traditional pack dynamics so he went upstairs. He figured he’d hear Derek when he arrived.

He opened the door and there was a big black shape in his room and ohmygod Bailey had come to kidnap him! Stiles clutched the can of Coke but the bag of chips went flying.

“Jesus Christ, Derek!”

Derek, who was sitting at his desk, didn’t say a word, but Stiles could see his lips twitching. The bastard was trying not to laugh. “Just ‘Derek’ will be fine, thank you.”

Stiles spluttered. “You…! You were supposed to knock at the door like someone civilized and well educated, not breaking and entering through my window!”

“I was raised by wolves, Stiles. What did you expect?”

There was mirth in Derek’s eyes. As much as Stiles was pissed at him for the scare, he relished seeing Derek like this. But he’d never tell him, that would only encourage him further. He suspected that Derek knew anyway. No real use pretending to be annoyed with someone who could literally smell your emotions.

“I can’t believe you. You just enjoy scaring the shit out of people, don’t you?”

Stiles sat cross legged on the floor with his can of soda. He then proceeded to pick up and eat the chips that had escaped from the bag and fell when Derek had freaking scared him.  
He caught Derek’s incredulous look.

“What? I’ve never believed in the 5 seconds rule anyway. This wouldn’t have happened if someone hadn’t been loitering in my room.”

“I wasn’t loitering, I was waiting for you.”

“In my bedroom.”

“I’m supposed to be in your bedroom.”

Stiles was drinking so he conveyed his lack of understanding by raising his eyebrows.

“We’re dating. So I’m in your bedroom.”

It was either spraying his carpet with soda or chocking to death and Stiles had no sense of self-preservation, so…

“About that…” he began when he was no longer coughing his lungs out. “How do we… I mean, werewolves…” Damn he was blushing. He got up and went to sit on his bed. Maybe he’d feel less vulnerable if he wasn’t at floor level.

Derek swiveled to face him, his demeanor changed.

“Look, I know the situation is less than ideal for you,” he said in a soft voice. Stiles snorted. “When Alpha Bailey will be here, I’ll have to… touch you, to pretend. I’m sorry but werewolves are very tactile with their partners and it would seem weird if I was too… distant.”

Why was Derek apologizing for having to touc… Oh. Touching him with his consent but in a situation in which he wouldn’t really have the option to say ‘no’ or ‘stop’, so not _real_ consent. Crap. He couldn’t afford to fall even more for the man sitting opposite him. He rubbed his face. He couldn’t tell Derek he wouldn’t mind _at all_ being touched by him. Even if it sucked because it wouldn’t be real.

“It’s okay Derek, I understand. I have to say I’ve never realized that Scott or Isaac were more touchy-feely than average…” Stiles tried not to flinch as a memory of Scott and Allison came unbidden. Sometimes he could barely believe that she was gone.  
Derek threw him a sharp look.

“They’re bitten werewolves. Born werewolves have stronger instincts.”

Stiles wondered how much touching was going to happen but he couldn’t bring himself to really worry about any inappropriate boners occurring. There was a good chance that the terror of fucking everything up would keep any unwanted excitation at bay. 

Derek rested his forearms on his knees, looking up at him.  
“I’m also going to have to mark you with my scent.”

If Stiles hadn’t witnessed that look earlier at the clinic, he wouldn’t have known that Derek was slightly embarrassed.

“You… what?” Surely Derek couldn’t mean what Stiles thought he meant.

“We’re supposed to spend a lot of time with each other and it should be reflected in our scents. We should smell like each other. It’s also something werewolf pairs do. They… rub on each other’s skin to leave their scent on the other. It’s a sign to all the other werewolves that they … belong to one another.”

That was the most Derek had ever directly said to him about werewolves and judging by his somewhat constipated look, it had been difficult.  
Stiles gulped. The mental images he was having after Derek’s little explanation should belong to nighttime, when he was alone in his bed. He tried to take discreet deep breaths, willing his dick’s sudden interest to fucking _die right now_.

“I should do this at least twice a day until the pack arrives for the scents to settle in,” Derek said, taking his jacket off.

Stiles began to panic. There was no way Derek was going to rub any part of himself on his skin without him popping a boner. It was going to be humiliating.

“Is there any other way?!” He squeaked.

Derek had already been frowning at him and his face literally closed off at his question. He wanted to take back what he’d said because apparently it had hurt Derek in some way but he really couldn’t without Derek then proceeding with his plan. Shit, did Derek think he was somehow repulsed by werewolves’ habits?

“What if we wear each other’s dirty clothes all the time instead? Would it work? Not the underwear though. I wasn’t suggesting we wear each other’s dirty underwear.” Then it occurred to Stiles that if they were supposed to… have sex – ah, funny how he could picture it but barely think the words – maybe the clothes thing wouldn’t be enough. Maybe that was why Derek had suggested skin contact…. “Er, are we… are we supposed to… to be very intimate or…?” His whole face felt like it was on fire.

“No.” Derek’s voice was this side of hollow. He hated when Derek used that tone because it meant he was keepings things to himself. “I’m planning to tell Alpha Bailey that you’re too young for us to engage in anything very intimate if he questions us.”  
Stiles felt like he’d been slapped even if it was the truth. He may be 18 but Derek still saw him as the gangly boy trespassing on his property.

“Besides, if we really wanted to make a werewolf believe that we were that intimate, we’d have to do more than just scent marking, and I really can’t do that.”

Stiles’ stomach churned. That had certainly put an end to any boner beginnings. Derek didn’t want to touch him. He had probably suggested the… skin rubbing because it was what would work best. Well, Derek wouldn’t have to force himself to do anything he didn’t want because some crazy Alpha wanted him as his Emissary. Derek had done enough stuff against his will.

“So the exchange of clothes will work, right?” He said.

“I guess it will if we wear them almost all the time. I’ll bring some of my fitted tees over.”

Stiles wanted to crack a joke about lending him his orange and blue striped tee-shirt but the light atmosphere of the beginning was gone, and it’d have sounded stilted. 

________________________________________

Stiles didn’t even jump when he found Derek in his bedroom the morning after. Probably because he hadn’t slept very well and still had to have his required caffeine intake.  
He had just showered and was grateful for the jeans he was wearing. There was nothing he could do about his bare chest though, so he blushed.  
Derek stood up from the desk chair. “I’ve brought some of my tee-shirts. So they’re… not clean.” He gestured to a small pile of tees that was on Stiles’ unmade bed.  
Stiles was so glad he hadn’t been in the mood to jerk off the previous night or upon waking up because things would have been so awkward. Well, _more_ awkward.

“Well, they weren’t supposed to be, right?”

Stiles resisted the urge to grab one of Derek’s tees _right now_ to feel less exposed. He decided to be an adult about this and went to his closet to take the clothes he had prepared for Derek.  
Except he had forgotten he had impulsively put the blue and orange tee-shirt on top of the pile the previous night, thinking he’d have the time to take it away before giving everything to Derek. Now he couldn’t do that without Derek noticing. Ah well.

When he turned Derek had a really strange look on his face. Stiles didn’t remember seeing that look before. Then Derek cleared his throat. Stiles thought he was going to say something but he stayed silent. Okay. Weird.  
He thrust the clothes to Derek. When the other man saw the stripped tee, his lips twitched in a suppressed smile. The warmth that blossomed in Stiles’ chest was ridiculous. Not to mention that his thoughts sounded like the romance novels Scott’s mom pretended she didn’t read but had a stock of. He had peaked, okay? He knew.  
Then he grabbed the first Henley on Derek’s pile because he really couldn’t stand being half naked anymore.  
Hey, the shirt was much less large on him than he thought it would be.  
He heard a sharp intake of breath. When he looked up, he saw that Derek had stepped back, his nostrils flaring.

“Is this okay? Is the scent okay?”

Derek nodded, looking a bit… wild. What the hell. “Yes.” He sounded a little strangled. “I’ll see you at the pack meeting tomorrow.”

There was a Pack meeting every week, either at Scott’s, Derek’s or Stiles’. This week’s was at the loft. Scott had decided to maintain the meeting even if they had already all met at the clinic, just in case Bailey was really sneaky and had them watched.

“Yeah, okay.”

Derek left and it took Stiles a moment to realize that he had used his bedroom’s door instead of the window. Then he heard the entry door closing.

He went to put his shoes on and… woah. The Henley certainly smelled like Derek. He was brought up short by the realization that somehow he _knew_ Derek’s scent. And given the way he kept sniffing at the shirt’s collar and the little flutter in his stomach each time he did, he _liked_ that scent.  
Derek didn’t wear any cologne – probably a werewolf thing – so the nice smell was undiluted Eau de Derek.  
Shit, his tees must stank to Derek’s nose. Good thing he had carefully picked the cleanest unclean ones.

He grabbed his backpack and went downstairs to finally have some breakfast. Well, coffee and something he could grab to eat later because he was running late, thank you Derek.

________________________________________

“So, is that Derek’s shirt you’re wearing?”

Trust his father to sneak up on him as he was finishing his coffee.

“Hello to you too, Dad.”

His dad pinned him with the patented Sheriff Stilinski _Don’t Fuck With Me_ look.  
Stiles sighed. He was already late. On the bright side, Deaton must have phoned because there was no way his dad had missed Derek leaving the house early in the morning. He wouldn’t look this calm if Deaton hadn’t done some explaining.

“Yes, it’s one of Derek’s shirt.”

“Is it part of the whole… you two pretending to date thing?”

“Yes it is. It’s so that our scents can mix.” His dad raised his eyebrows. “Werewolf thing.”

“Was there no other way?”

There was no way Stiles was going to tell his father what Derek had suggested first, especially as he seemed to find the whole wearing each other’s clothes thing weird.

“Not really no, unless you want us to actually date.” Stiles said with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t be a smart ass, son. How much danger are you in?”

Stiles was ever so glad that his father wasn’t a werewolf and so couldn’t hear when he lied. Though he had his own detector. He was very tempted to ask what Deaton had said, but he knew that it would tip his father off.

“Not really in danger. The faking dating scheme is just an extra precaution. We have a True Alpha, a werewolf who can shift into an actual wolf and who’s like werewolf royalty, we have a Banshee, a Kitsune, a werecoyote… We’ll be fine. They’re just curious, I guess.”

“That’s roughly what Deaton told me.”

“Ah, you see: no danger!”

“You look too relieved.”

Stiles was so glad he’d just had his caffeine. “Deaton can be cryptic as hell, I was worried he’d made you fret over nothing with his muddy explanations.”

“And you’re not actually dating Derek and don’t dare to tell me? It’s not a cover up?”

“Daaad, seriously? You think Deaton would stoop to helping me with my – non-existent – love life?”

His dad stared. For a long moment. “No, you’re right. Just… be careful, right?”

“Like always, dad.”

“That’s not especially reassuring.”

“Scott is looking out for me.”

“That’s much better.”

________________________________________

The next two days were uneventful, apart from Scott exclaiming “Dude, that’s so weird!” the first morning Stiles arrived at school wearing Derek’s Henley.  
“I think this one fits me rather well. It’s not even baggy.”  
“Not the shirt, the smell.”  
“How do I smell? Like Derek and I are dating?”  
“Well… Not like you’re doing the thing, but like you’re spending all your free time together.”  
“‘Doing the thing’. Really, Scott?”

As nothing kept happening – meaning no contact from Alpha Bailey – Scott’s usual cheerfulness became tinged with tension. Stiles reached the strained stage way before him but unlike Scott, his state of mind didn’t have a real influence on the pack. Soon, everyone – Liam especially – looked like their skin could barely contain them.

So the weekly pack gathering was a welcome distraction. They were going to forego the meeting part since they already knew what the current threat was. They were going to proceed directly with the ‘bonding’ part of the weekly gathering: watching movies. This had been Scott’s idea, to try and bring the pack closer. There’d been a lot of eye-rolling at first but now it seemed that everyone liked it, maybe because every week someone different got to choose the movie. Tonight was Malia’s turn.

Stiles had unfolded every shirt Derek had lent him then tried them on to find the one that fitted him the best. Not that he wanted to look his best at the pack meeting. Nope. He just wanted to feel… comfortable. Yeah.  
One tee-shirt wasn’t among the choice, already paired with his pyjama bottoms. It was the largest and it looked well worn. It was also the only one that smelt like detergent. Stiles strongly suspected that Derek slept in that tee-shirt as it had a very faded drawing on the front and Stiles couldn’t remember seeing Derek wearing it. So he felt no qualms sleeping in it too.

Ah! He twisted to try and look at his back in the dark grey shirt he had picked. Not too bad. It seemed it was the best fitting one. Time to go to the loft.  
________________________________________

Stiles didn’t even have the time to reach for the loft’s door as it opened when he arrived, revealing Scott.  
“Hey dude!” Scott grimaced. “Dude.”  
“What?”  
“You don’t smell like yourself anymore, it’s weird.”  
“So, it’s working, right?”  
“I’ve discussed with Derek and we think it’s not enough yet. The scent on the tee-shirts is probably starting to fade a little.”  
“You have an idea?”  
“Yeah, hoping that the Alpha will contact me very soon.”

Stiles followed Scott inside. Only Liam and Kira had arrived.

Derek came out of the kitchen, his eyes zeroing on Stiles, nostrils flaring. Stiles couldn’t help a smile when he saw he was wearing the striped orange and blue tee-shirt, paired with sweatpants. He looked all soft and cuddly. He’d never have thought he’d think that about Derek one day.  
Derek who hadn’t stopped advancing and was now very much in his personal space, their chests almost touching. The werewolf seemed to catch himself and stepped back.  
There was a commotion at the door, signaling Lydia and Malia’s arrival.  
Scott, Kira and Liam all turned their attention toward the entry and went to greet the girls.

“Scott’s right,” Derek said. “The scents are fading a bit. It won’t be enough to fool Bailey.”  
Stiles smelled his tee-shirt. “I’m going to have to trust you guys on this one because to me this tee still smells a lot like you.”  
There was a sharp intake of breath and when Stiles looked up, Derek seemed startled.  
“You can smell my scent?”  
Stiles felt himself flushing, suddenly unsure of what to say. Had he crossed some weird werewolf taboo line?  
“I… yeah?”  
“What do you smell?” Did Derek look… earnest?  
“Er, my nose is nothing like you guys so…” Stiles was trying to bid his time because the first answer that had come to his mind had been “comfort, safety and lust”. That was what Derek’s scent was to him. No way he was going to tell of this realization to Derek. The trick to pass the werewolf lie detector was to lie but without really lying.  
“Spicy and woodsy.” And musky and warm and a bit wild. But this he was going to keep to himself too.  
Derek pinned him with a look and since he was still standing closer than usual, it was a bit unnerving. Or arousing. Both were _bad_ anyway.

“What do _I_ smell?” Maybe it was a bad idea to ask, maybe Derek was going to tell him he smelt like dirty rags or something but Stiles was genuinely curious. And also maybe it would distract Derek from his _staring_.

Derek got even closer and stared even more. Trust Stiles to have the worst ideas. Derek then visibly breathed his scent in. Stiles could have made a dog joke, but it was very far from his mind. Derek behaving like this, letting what he was come through, turned him on. 

“Citrus, ozone, grass, earth just before the first drops of rain,” Derek whispered.  
“That doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Stiles said, desperate to cover his reaction up. “Sorry, man.”  
Derek frowned, opened his mouth to say something…

“Guys come on, we don’t have all night!”

Derek threw a rather murderous look at Liam. Stiles had thought he was past this stage with Scott’s Beta.

“We’re coming!” He said, and turned to the living-room part of the loft, where the others were already installed. Drinks and snacks were piled on the coffee table.

Stiles went to see Lydia and then Malia, both of whom he had yet to greet.

There was a strange low sound – like a growl?! – as he hugged Malia after Lydia. He looked up in time to see Scott looking weirdly at Derek. Whose eyes were electric blue. What in the… He was giving up. He was seriously giving up on understanding Hales and their moods. He didn’t want to know what Malia had done to annoy Derek. She was currently staring at her cousin – boy, it was still weird to think that – her eyes wide.

He looked around to try and find a seat and the only space left was on the big chair that was Derek’s favorite. It was big enough to seat two people – bit of a tight fit though. No one else ever sat in it because everyone knew Derek loved that chair, even if Scott could have claimed the seat since he was the Alpha and sat first during the pack gatherings.  
That had been weird when Derek had explained that kind of pack dynamics to Scott, while Stiles listened, enraptured. At times during his account, Derek’s eyes had taken a faraway look and Stiles had known that he was reminiscing family stuff. But instead of darkening his mood as it’d have in the past, he’d looked glad to share his heritage with Scott. Maybe also a little with Stiles since he’d kept including him in his explanations. Stiles liked this side of Derek. Sometimes he could picture how Talia, his mother, must have been.

“Er, where am I supposed to seat?”  
“With me,” Derek simply answered, sitting down in his chair. 

He must have made a face because Scott said “Derek and I think that your scents will mix better if you’re in close contact.” Scott sounded apologetic so yeah, he must have made a face.  
He couldn’t tell him it wasn’t because he didn’t like the idea of being plastered to Derek for the evening. Quite the contrary. But it seemed that the humiliation he had avoided with the scent marking was back into the realm of possibilities.  
One look at Derek told him he wasn’t very pleased with the idea either. He fought a wave of disappointment. He wouldn’t have to do so if his stupid heart, mind, dick – whatever –stopped being interested in Derek _right now_. It was obvious he had as much chance with him as he’d had with Lydia.

“What are we watching?” He asked going to the chair but not sitting yet. If anyone asked, he wasn’t buying time. He wasn’t.

“ _Frozen_ ,” Malia cheerfully answered.

Liam, Scott and Lydia groaned.

“You’ve already brought this one,” Liam complained.

Malia had loved Disney cartoons as a kid. She was watching all the ones she’d missed when she was stuck in coyote form. Apparently _Frozen_ was a favorite. He’d bet _Tangled_ would make another appearance soon. 

“I know, but Derek loved it too.” Malia smiled. Sometimes her smile was eerily similar to Peter’s.

Before Derek could answer anything – by the looks of it, it wasn’t to agree with her – Malia said “He was tapping his foot on _Frozen Heart_. I saw it!” in a sing-song voice.

Derek’s mouth clicked shut and he looked a bit bashful, confirming Malia’s observation.  
While Malia couldn’t really fill the hole Cora’s absence created in Derek’s life, Stiles was glad to see that after a first few awkward weeks, they were now acting like true cousins.

Derek put on his angriest face, the one with the Eyebrows of Doom, and looked at everyone in turn, daring them to mock him. Judging by the barely restrained smiles everyone was sporting, it wasn’t really efficient. The pack had learnt what a big softie Derek could be.  
Stiles’ heart did something that absolutely wasn’t a flutter at the thought. Derek looked up at him. Had he heard?  
The werewolf indicated the – too small – space beside him with an eyebrow raise. Derek was good at communicating with only his eyebrows. Or maybe Stiles was good at understanding that unique dancing language.

Stiles sat down at the beautiful choir marking the start of the movie.  
Well, ‘sat down’ wasn’t accurate. More like ‘wedged himself between Derek and the armrest’. He was tightly pressed to Derek from shoulder to knee. They were both wearing short sleeves so their bare skins were in contact. Stiles hadn’t suspected until that moment that biceps could be an erogenous zone. Derek was a very solid, very muscled presence against him, impossible to ignore. Maybe if he concentrated on the movie…

“It’s not going to work,” Derek suddenly whispered, starting to get up. Stiles realized in an instant that Derek was hearing his accelerated heartbeat and was probably under the impression that he was stressed by the close contact. Well, he _was_ , but not in _that_ way. Did Derek think that he was still somehow scared of him? Come on, that was ridicu… Or disgusted. Jesus, what was his life? The guy he was interested in thought that he was repulsive to him.  
Stiles’ hand shot on its own accord and landed on Derek’s thigh, efficiently stopping his movement.

“Sit down,” Stiles murmured, pressing down on Derek’s leg. He looked like he was about to protest. “Derek, please.”  
He sat back, ramrod straight. “I can hear that you don’t feel comfortable, I don’t wa…”  
“We don’t have any other choice, okay?”  
“That’s not a reason…”

“Some people would like to watch _Frozen_ without background noise,” Malia said.

They had been whispering but there wasn’t any real stealth possible with werewolves. And werecoyotes.

They were both silent for a bit but Stiles got the feeling that neither of them was really watching the movie.

“Look, I’m… I’m okay with this,” he began, as quietly as he could.

From the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Derek opening his mouth, frowning. He couldn’t really turn to talk to Derek without bringing their faces way too close.

“Have you ever seen me doing something I didn’t want to do?”

Again, Derek tried to talk. “Don’t argue, Malia’s going to kill us. You know I’m right anyway.”

He couldn’t see it, but Stiles could _feel_ Derek rolling his eyes.

“I was just… I was thinking about the other pack arrival, and what was going to happen. I guess I got a little carried away in my imaginary scenario, okay?”

There was no reaction from Derek. Stiles saw his clenched jaw when he turned his head a little. It tore at him to see Derek so conflicted about this. He hoped there was a special place in Hell for Kate when she fucking finally _died_ because he was sure she was the root of Derek’s reaction.  
Stiles blindly reached for Derek’s hand, landing on his wrist instead. He gently grasped it.

“Derek, you have to know I trust you to not make me do something that wouldn’t be truly useful to trick Alpha Bailey.”  
He could feel his heart thundering in his chest because that was very close to a confession.

Derek slightly tilted his head and Stiles guessed he was probably listening to his heartbeat.  
He hadn’t realized how tense Derek was until he felt him relax completely, nearly sagging in the armchair. He let go of Derek’s wrist.

Okay, he knew he could do this. Stiles let himself lean sideways, purposely resting his body against Derek’s. There was no outwards reaction from the werewolf but Stiles felt a minute twitch.  
He then tried to concentrate on the rest of the movie but he had already seen it so he started drifting away after a while.  
He hadn’t slept very well since learning of Alpha Bailey and Derek was surprisingly soft against him. Right now being pressed against Derek was more reassuring than really arousing, probably because he was getting tired. He wasn’t some damsel in distress, he could take care of himself in fights – he had to, he didn’t want anyone hurt because they paid more attention to his safety than their own – but he had to admit that Derek’s solid, warm, soft presence made him feel safe.

________________________________________

Stiles woke up with a start, blinking. It took a moment for his sleep addled brain to grasp that he wasn’t in his bedroom, and judging by the crick in his neck, neither in his bed. What the…  
He had fallen asleep on Derek, his face nearly buried in his collarbone… Oh my god was it a trace of drool? Good job, Stilinski. Fall asleep on the poor guy and drool on him. Well, technically he had drooled on his own tee-shirt, not on Derek’s, but still… Very sexy. Not.

“Calm down, Stiles.”

Stiles sat up and realized everyone had left. The TV was still on, casting a feeble glow around.

“Crap. How long I’ve been like this?”

“Sleeping? An hour or so. Panicking over nothing? The whole time I’ve known you.”

“Aha. Very funny. Why didn’t you wake me up? I was literally asleep on you.”

Derek shrugged. “You seem very tired. I figured you needed the rest. I have to warn you, Malia and Lydia took pictures.”  
Derek looked way too happy about this.

Stiles groaned. “They should never have met.” He got up. It was very difficult. He didn’t want to leave the armchair cocoon of Derek’s warmth. He checked the time. Nearly midnight. Shit.

“My father is going to kill me. If panic didn’t kill him first.” He sluggishly started to look around the room for his backpack. He wasn’t fully awake yet.

“I texted him to tell him you were staying the night because you were too tired to drive back, so he wouldn’t worry needlessy.”

Stiles turned so fast he might have given himself whiplash.

“You what? What did he say?”

“Not much. He just seemed glad someone was looking after you.”

There was something Derek wasn’t telling him. He’d known him long enough to feel that. But right now there was something more important: he was going to sleep at Derek’s. It had never happened before, no matter how many pack gatherings there had been at the loft.

“I’m going to prepare the bed for us,” Derek announced, standing up.  
He was still asleep and dreaming. Stiles had no other explanation for what he’d just heard. Derek wanted to sleep with him. Well, it was sleep _sleep_ but it could be a first step towa… “If we sleep in the same bed, our scents will blend even better and Alpha Bailey won’t know the difference,” Derek added after a beat, eyes wide.

Of fucking course. Why would Derek want him in his bed for any other reason than Deaton’s brilliant plan? It was also probably why he’d let him fall asleep on him in the armchair. For a moment, his mind had gone to a place it shouldn’t have gone to, where he wasn’t some sort of annoying hyperactive teenager to Derek. Unlike him, Derek hadn’t enjoyed any of this. He had endured it for the dating ruse. He didn’t want Derek to force himself to do this. He was tired of this shit.  
Deaton could go fuck himself with his idea, Alpha Bailey could go fuck himself. He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t.  
A part of his mind was vaguely aware that he was reacting like a capricious kid but right now he couldn’t care less.

“No.”

Derek, who was heading towards the staircase, stopped short and turned. “What?”

“I don’t want to do it. I’m going to sleep on the sofa.”

Derek looked stunned. “But we have to mix our scents.”

“I think they’re mixed enough. I want to stop this.” He wanted to stop this whole charade of Derek pretending to want to be in close contact with him, pretending he wanted to touch him, pretending he _wanted_ them to sleep in his bed.

Derek’s face became a blank mask. “Okay.” He turned back and climbed the stairs, his movements wooden. “I’m going to get you a blanket and a pillow so you’re comfortable.”

Stiles felt like a worthless piece of shit. Derek was most definitely not the person he should have taken his frustration out on. He wasn’t the werewolf following obsolete customs.  
Derek had been doing his best to stick to Deaton’s plan whereas himself had been whining and complaining at every turn.

Derek came back down with the blanket and the pillow he had mentioned. He dropped them on the sofa, his face still closed off.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Derek… Look, I shouldn’t have talked to you like this…”

Derek shook his head. “I shouldn’t have pushed it. I should have realized sooner how uncomfortable you really were with all this.”

“It’s not… I don’t…”

“Just don’t fret over this. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Try and get some sleep, okay?”

Stiles felt like an even bigger shit. “Okay. Thank you for the…” He gestured to the items on the sofa.  
Derek just nodded.

Stiles watched him go up the stairs again, the need to tell Derek he had changed his mind on the tip of his tongue. But he had fucked up too badly to do that.

________________________________________

Stiles awoke, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He’d slept better than expected, considering how the evening had ended.  
The pillow and blanket Derek had lent him only smelt of laundry detergent. He’d said he didn’t want to carry on with the scent mixing and Derek had followed his wishes.  
He hadn’t realized he had already grown used to have Derek’s scent around him so the blanket and the pillow had seemed… wrong at first. He was starting to understand the sometimes weird reactions the werewolves could have when scents – especially pack scents – were involved.

He heard a noise and realized that it was probably what had woken him. He sat up and saw that it was Derek in the kitchen.  
His stomach growled at the prospect of eating. He tried not to think about the weirdness of waking up at the loft and Derek preparing breakfast. Well, the thing was, it was both weird and… domestic. How could something that had never happened before seem familiar?

Stiles got up and quickly put his jeans on before padding to the kitchen. He had slept in his boxers but had kept Derek’s shirt on. It’d have been too strange not to have Derek’s scent on him at all.

Derek didn’t turn but everything in his demeanor indicated that he knew Stiles was awake and watching him.  
Now that he was closer, he could see that Derek was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He hadn’t shaved and judging by his spectacular bedhead, he had yet to shower. He looked… Stiles tried to find another word but ‘adorable’ was what fit the most. He’d never seen that side of Derek before: sleep rumpled and soft.  
He realized with a start that Derek had received the pack in his _sleeping_ clothes. Not only Derek was feeling comfortable enough with the pack – with them – to do that, but he was wearing Stiles’ stripped tee-shirt to sleep. And he knew, he _knew_ it was likely to follow the scent mixing plan, but his stupid heart did a lurch anyway. That was when Derek finally looked up.

“Let me guess,” he said. “Lots of sugar in the coffee?”  
“Yeah, and lots of coffee too, thanks.”

Suddenly, a sound echoed in the loft. It took a moment for Stiles to realize that it was both his message notification and Derek’s. He knew what it meant.

Derek’s phone was closest. He _growled_ as he read the message, his eyes flashing blue. This couldn’t be good.  
Stiles hurried to the coffee table to retrieve his phone. As expected, it was a message from Scott to all the pack members plus Deaton.  
**He’s here. Called. Said he was passing through the Preserve and wished to meet the new Alpha. Everyone come to the Preserve right now. Sure he’s not alone.**

Alpha Bailey was a scumbag. He had voluntarily trespassed on Hale territory of all places – there was no way he hadn’t known where he was – and now he was making Scott going there, with the former Alpha Hale in tow. No wonder Derek was pissed off. Stiles wasn’t a werewolf and _he_ was.

“One thing is sure, I’m not following this guy anywhere,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt.  
“It won’t happen, I’ll make sure of that.”

Angry Derek was really terrifying. And a bit hot too, but that was Stiles’ own problem.

________________________________________

There was a growl from the passenger seat of the jeep. Derek had texted Scott to know where exactly the pack was. Stiles had an idea of the answer given Derek’s reaction.

“Let me guess: the house?”

Derek nodded, jaw clenched hard.

They still called the plot of land where the Hale house used to stand ‘the house’ because Derek was the first doing so right after the demolition. Nothing would ever be rebuilt on the site. Laura’s, Erica’s and Boyd’s bodies laid there. Stiles saw the place as a sacred land and he knew that of course Derek felt the same. The thought of Alpha Bailey somehow knowing and coming there without Scott’s – the Alpha of the territory – assent made his skin crawl. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how bad it must be for Derek.  
He gave in to his impulse and let his hand touch Derek’s forearm in a comforting gesture. He had learnt that to werewolves touch could be a great source of comfort but truth be told, he was seeking comfort himself.  
Derek’s jaw loosened minutely. Stiles tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him. It’d worked, however briefly.

“Remember that I’m going to have to touch you in front of Alpha Bailey,” Derek said after a while. “Probably a lot. Werewolves are… territorial with their partners.”

“You mean possessive as fuck.” Stiles grinned, hoping to convey he understood it was necessary and didn’t mind. Like really, really didn’t mind.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Derek answered, rolling his eyes.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep the filthy retort he had in mind.

________________________________________

It looked like a western movie face-off. Everyone was standing by the place the Hale house used to be. Scott and the pack with their backs to where the house was, facing what Stiles assumed to be Alpha Bailey and two of his pack members. Only two of them. Either they were all wrong and it was just a friendly visit, either Bailey was so full of himself he thought he didn’t need his whole pack with him to beat them.  
They were too far away for Stiles to see what Bailey looked like.

Just as he remembered that they were supposed to act like they were dating, Derek got closer and gently put his hand on Stiles’ nape. Stiles couldn’t suppress a shiver at the intimate contact. He knew what the gesture meant because he had done some express research on some specific werewolf behaviors. It roughly meant ‘mine’.  
It’d have been a bit thrilling and sexy had it been for _real_. Right now Stiles didn’t want to be seen only as Derek’s property in Bailey’s eyes. So he returned the gesture, boldly putting his own hand on the back of Derek’s neck. He felt the man briefly stiffening before continuing to walk alongside him as if nothing had happened.  
Crap. He’d known for a while that touching werewolves’ necks without warning or permission was a big no-no but Derek had initiated the contact and he had forgotten the notion in the heat of the moment. He couldn’t apologize to Derek because he was pretty sure they were in hearing range now. It was Derek's fault anyway, he should have warned him about that. Well, to be honest he _had_ , but _knowing_ he was going to be touched by Derek - the urge to use the word 'pawed' was strong - was one thing and actually _being_ touched by Derek was a whole another.

Stiles wished Scott looked less surprised to see him and Derek arriving together. It was going to be difficult to pretend they were dating if their Alpha reacted like that. He tried to convey that through a pointed stare at Scott.  
Or maybe it was because he and Derek were both unwashed, unshaven and wearing yesterday’s clothes, save for Derek who had jumped into a pair of jeans. At least it made it look like they’d spent the night together.

Shit. Alpha Bailey looked impressive. Not in that ‘look at all my muscles’ way, but more in the way Deucalion had looked. There was no tangible way to guess his age but Deaton had suggested he was kind of old. He didn’t look past fifty, until you saw his eyes.  
His two pack members – whom Stiles immediately dubbed Goon 1 and Goon 2 looked like bouncers. Bit cliché.  
The whole pack stood in a line behind Scott, with no real hierarchy like there should have been. Stiles thought that it looked cool and badass, even if he was sure Derek was having a silent conniption beside him.

“Ah, I guess it’s our lovebirds,” Bailey said in a tone that made Stiles wonder if there was a chance he was related to Peter.

“This is Stiles, who’s like my brother, and Derek Hale,” Scott introduced like Bailey hadn’t spoken, which was kind of great. Scott may seem like a goofy puppy most of the time but he knew how to interact with people.

“Ah, Derek. Last time I saw you, you still had to accomplish your first shift,” Bailey said, smiling genially.

Okaayyy. For some reason, Bailey was trying to provoke some kind of reaction from Derek. But wh…

“So, you were passing through Beacon Hills?” Scott said.

Oh. It was some werewolf pack dynamics shit. Derek wasn’t the one supposed to react, even if he was the one targeted. Scott was the Alpha. He was supposed to keep his pack members in line. Scott had to authorize Derek to react, or do it himself.  
Bailey was testing Scott’s Alphaness. Well, his bro may look a little wet behind the ears, but Bailey was in for a surprise if he thought Scott was just a brainless teen.

It suddenly occurred to Stiles in a blinding flash that his being Scott’s Emissary – was he even that, anyway? – was just a pretext for Bailey. The Alpha thought he could get Scott. He thought he could provoke Scott into a fight, in whatever way he could, kill him and grab his True Alpha power for himself.  
But if what Deaton had said was true, Bailey stuck strictly to werewolf traditions. So if Derek and himself played their roles well, Bailey wouldn’t be able to attack them from this side at least.

He belatedly realized that Derek was tracing circles on his nape with his thumb. When he glanced over, he found Derek giving him a worried and interrogative look. Shit he couldn’t afford panicking – and his heart rate rising – around hostile werewolves. He shot Derek a smile he meant to be reassuring but he knew Derek saw right through it.  
He didn’t know if Derek, Scott, Lydia or any other member of the pack was going to reach his conclusion and there was no way he could communicate anything without getting caught. Fucking werewolves.

“I was indeed,” Bailey answered. “Haven’t been there in a long time. Guess I wanted to see how Beacon Hills fared now. I’ve heard worrying tales of hunters roaming the city freely, and of many werewolves being killed by ordinary humans.”

The implicit message was that Scott sucked at maintaining order on his territory. Stiles really hoped that Bailey wasn’t going to talk about the hunter Scott used to date because if he did, all bets about Scott keeping his cool would be off.

“I also heard about one of your pack going a bit off the rails,” Bailey continued, looking directly at Stiles.  
He hadn’t seen that one coming, since Bailey was supposedly interested in taking him into his pack, so it was like a physical blow.  
Derek, who had put his arm loosely around Stiles’ waist, patted his back once… in a comforting gesture? Then he shifted a bit so he was partly in front of Stiles.

Uh. Was that a protective reaction? It was a little unwarranted at the moment. Stiles doubted Bailey was going to attack him. Not yet anyway. He hoped.

“This problem has been dealt with a while ago. By my pack,” Scott said, encompassing the pack standing behind him in a wide hand gesture.

What the hell was Scott on about?

“Not by yourself?” There was a very fake note of surprise in Bailey’s voice that suggested that he knew more about what happened in Beacon Hills than he let on.

“I like to delegate,” Scott said with a grin. “I only handle serious situations.”

Stiles didn’t know if it was some True Alpha mojo or if he had finally ruffed off on Scott, but suggesting that him being possessed by a Nogitsune hadn’t been serious was genius.

Bailey fixed Scott with a stare as if reassessing his opinion of him.

“So, I had Alan on the phone. He seemed quite well. He’s your Emissary, I guess?”

 _Here we go_. Wordlessly, everyone in the pack moved a little closer to each other, and closer to Scott.

“No, he’s not. More like a mentor. Like… Obi-Wan?” Scott turned to him. They were in the middle of a freaking crisis and Scott was checking if his Star Wars reference was correct. He nodded. Because otherwise Scott was going to _ask_. Derek’s face reflected his disbelief. Stiles nudged him, on the wild guess that maybe it would settle him a bit. He couldn’t do more than nudge as apparently Derek’s arm had become a permanent fixture around his waist. He must admit that it was pleasantly grounding.  
Wolves – and werewolves – found comfort in physical contact. They were probably onto something. He’d knew he’d be freaking out a lot more if Derek wasn’t plastered against him.

“So who’s your Emissary?” Bailey was full of himself – and it made him act a bit stupidly – so he unsubtly turned to Stiles.

“I don’t have an Emissary for now,” Scott answered anyway. Because it _was_ true. Well, partially. Whatever.

“Really? Was Alan wrong when he told me that… Stiles,” Bailey gestured at him, pretending not to remember his name, “was acting like your Emissary?”

That was it. He was going to kill Deaton and no one would ever find the body. He felt Derek’s hand tightening on his waist. Maybe he’d have help.

“I don’t really know what an Emissary is supposed to do,” Scott shrugged, putting on his best dumb face. 

Bailey got a glint in his eyes Stiles didn’t like. He saw Scott tensing but that was nothing compared to Derek nearly vibrating out of his skin against him, holding him so tightly he was a bit worried for his ribs. What the hell was happening to him?

“Maybe that means you don’t really need one after all. On the other hand, I lost mine not long ago…” Stiles had no idea what the ties between Bailey and his Emissary had been, but he guessed nothing like him and Scott since Bailey was talking like he had lost his car keys. “Perhaps you would like to visit Sacramento, see what a real pack looks like?” Bailey said directly to him. There, he had finally said it.

Scott’s eyes turned red but he had no outward other reaction. Derek started a menacing sub-growl, almost stepping completely in front of him while still holding him. He hadn’t shifted, but his eyes glowed bright blue and Stiles could feel the prickle of claws in his side.

“Stiles has ties with this pack,” he said, his voice eerily calm.

Stiles realized that their formation had shifted without him noticing and that he and Derek were now beside Scott, the rest of the pack in a half circle around them.

Bailey scrutinized him and Derek. Stiles tried to keep his heartbeat even. Well, as even as it could given the tense atmosphere.

“Very interesting, and quite unexpected,” Bailey muttered. Then he turned to him. “Do you think you have chosen well? This one hasn’t proven very good at protecting his family and pack. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

After a split-second shock that Bailey had even dared to go there, Stiles felt himself engulfed in a wave of anger. He’d have bet Derek would be the one to react like this, but the werewolf stood stock still against him. One would have thought him unemotional, but Stiles had felt his hand spasm on his waist when Bailey had talked. He wanted to provoke Derek into attacking him to get to Scott and Derek knew it.  
Stiles could barely breathe through his rage. Was it how Scott felt when he was about to shift?  
He went for Bailey, adrenaline overriding the notion that the Alpha could easily maim him. A hand stopped him from going further but it wasn’t Derek’s. It was Scott, his face full of disbelief. Goon 1 and 2 had stepped forward too.

“You don’t get to talk about this,” he began, no longer caring if he insulted Bailey. “Derek was a teenager when it happened. Even Alpha Hale couldn’t do anything against the psycho hunter who killed them.” He could hear himself speaking, like an out-of-body experience. His voice was surprisingly strong and unwavering. “The Hales have founded this city and protected it for decades. Derek is their descendant, their heir. He could have left, started a new, carefree life somewhere else, but he’s still here, still helping to protect the city, like his ancestors before him. He’s ten times the man – the werewolf – you’ll ever be. So yes, I’d say I’ve chosen well.”

“Stiles…” It was Derek, his voice a little odd. His hand was extended toward him. Stiles understood what he wanted. He stepped back into his embrace, Derek’s arm coming to encircle him from behind. Then Derek scenting his nape felt perfectly natural. He’d freak out about this later.

“I think it’d be best if you moved on to another territory or went back to yours, Alpha Bailey,” Scott said in a voice full of power, his tone this side of cold. When Stiles looked at him, he looked every inch the True Alpha he was. “It was… interesting meeting you but I think it’s best if it doesn’t happen again for a while. I wish you good luck in finding a new Emissary.”

Bailey’s face showed his displeasure. Goon 1 and goon 2 looked at him like they were expecting him to order a massacre. Then, a mask of fake friendliness replaced the annoyance. “I… thank you for your good wishes, Alpha McCall.”

It was the first time anyone ever called Scott ‘Alpha McCall’, especially another Alpha. That was very cool even if it was coming from a werewolf that he never wanted to see again.

“I’m saddened by your decision of not maintaining contact with my pack for now, though. I hope you’ll reconsider.”

“We’ll see with time. I think it’s best if Derek accompanies you back out of Hale territory.”

Derek started against him.

“You mean McCall territory, I think,” Bailey commented.

“No. This part of Beacon Hills will always be Hale territory.” Scott turned to Derek and they had a silent werewolf conversation. Stiles hated when they did that. “I’m going to ask you to wait a moment.” Scott nodded to Derek, who nodded back. He finally relinquished his hold on Stiles. He looked apologetically at him before disappearing behind a group of bushes. What the hell?

Stiles instantly felt naked without Derek nearly draped around him. He should really get used to it and fast because their little charade was going to end soon. He didn’t want it to. He liked this. He also didn’t want to allow himself yet to think it had worked. Not while Bailey was still here.

There was a strange muted sound on his left and when he turned toward it, Stiles saw a huge black wolf almost upon them. It took a moment for him to understand he was looking at Derek in full shift form. Stiles wasn’t the only one to gape. So far Derek had been a bit circumspect about this new development for him and as a result, not all the pack members had seen his wolf form.  
Stiles was so entranced he didn’t care to check Bailey’s reaction. The majestic creature now approaching him was more important.  
Stiles had always thought that the beta shift of a werewolf would always be scarier than anything looking like a wolf – he refused to think about Peter’s twisted Alpha shape – but he had to revise his opinion now that the giant black wolf was standing at waist height in front of him. What did he…  
Derek pressed his snout to his stomach, snuffling. It should have been terrifying but it was _Derek_. On instinct, he scratched behind the wolf’s ear and immediately realized that he had just petted a werewolf like he would a dog. A sound like a snort came from Derek. If wolves could roll their eyes Stiles was pretty sure Derek would be doing just that now. “Sorry, dude.”  
Derek nudged his stomach with his snout again in answer. He guessed he was forgiven.  
Stiles _knew_ it was Derek, of course. But this wolf was so different from his beta shift, from anything like the human form. It was so much more than a shift of bones and flesh. It was magic. It was awing.

Derek slowly turned back towards Bailey as if reluctant. His black as ink fur was thick and he had a certain poise about him. Even in wolf form, Derek was beautiful.

The wolf briefly paused and Stiles realized with horror that he had muttered the last word, loud enough to be heard by werewolf ears. 

“I wish you a safe trip wherever you’re going,” Scott said, signaling the beginning of Derek’s escort.

Bailey looked at Scott. “I hadn’t realized that your Emissary was Derek Hale’s mate. I wish to apologize for trying to make him leave his legitimate pack.”

Stiles felt his eyes becoming as wide as saucers. Mate?! MATE?! That was a thing that really existed?!

“Ah. I feel maybe you’re going to have to explain some things to your mate,” Bailey said to Derek, who growled at him, urging him to move by pressing his huge body against the Alpha’s legs.

“Alpha McCall, I hope we are parting on good terms. I regret that the situation wasn’t exposed more clearly to me.”

“There are no harsh feelings, Alpha Bailey,” Scott said, despite his face screaming ‘I don’t ever want to see you again’. But that was something he couldn’t afford to say out loud since the Bailey Pack had many allied packs. Hopefully, the fact that Bailey had been the one making a big faux pas would play in their favor.

Stiles watched them all leaving the clearing, until he couldn’t see them through the trees, his mind working in overdrive.  
Try as he might, he couldn’t find a reason for Bailey to lie about this. Even Derek’s reaction pointed to the Alpha telling the truth. He was trying to remember all what he’d read about mates, back when he still believed it was a myth. It wasn’t a lot. He didn’t even know werewolves could have _human_ mates. How long… Why had Derek said nothing to him?

“Stiles?”

Scott was right behind him and he hadn’t heard him approaching.

“Just… Not now, bro.”

“Okay. If it helps, Alpha Bailey wasn’t lying. About you and Derek being mates.”

“It doesn’t really help. Wait, mates? As in plural?”

“It works both ways, I think. Like you’re his mate but he’s also yours? I’ve seen the way you stood up to Bailey earlier. That was something a werewolf would have done.”

Before Stiles could analyze this new information further, a black shape appeared in the distance. Derek, still in wolf form.

Stiles was wondering why he was veering off instead of joining them when Derek started changing back just before the bushes.  
It was nothing like a shifting, it was more like a ripple all over his body. It was beautiful. A few moments and Derek was standing in all his glory. His very naked glory. His very muscled and gorgeous naked glory. Then Derek finally disappeared behind the bushes to retrieve his clothes. 

“Well, I didn’t know I’d see this much of Derek one day,” Lydia commented.  
“Yeah,” Liam just added.

“Stiles, man…” Scott was wrinkling his nose at him.  
“What?”  
“You reek like arousal,” Malia said.  
“Yeah well…” Stiles didn’t want to be here right now. He wanted some time to think. And research. “Look, Scott. Could you tell Derek I had to leave?” He realized that Derek had most probably just heard what he’d said. He looked at the bushes, where Derek took a suspiciously long time to dress back. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed time to think. “Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow?”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah. It’s been a crazy few days. I just need to… you know?”  
Scott nodded.

Stiles hurried to leave the clearing and find his jeep. He’d have to tell Scott about what Bailey’s real plan had been at some point, though. Something told him the Alpha would try the same shit again one day.

________________________________________

Stiles fell asleep on his laptop after hours of research.

There wasn’t a lot he could access to since they hadn’t gotten around to put a version of their bestiary online. They had compiled the Argents’ bestiary and part of what they had found in the Hales’ vault, plus what Derek knew, and put the result on USB keys. They weren’t quite finished so if he wanted more information, the place to go to was… the loft. Which… nope. Not right now.

So yeah, mates was a thing that was real for werewolves, albeit not that common. He had stumbled upon some information, but it was about mates where both partners were werewolves. Interestingly enough, gender wasn’t important when you found your mate. Just like Derek had told him.  
What they’d done, the sharing of scents, the constant touching, was something mates did. What Derek had proposed doing at the beginning, the scent marking, was something intimate. Stiles recalled Derek doing just that right after his confrontation with Bailey, and also when he was in wolf form.  
Apparently, werewolves mated for life, just like wolves, which might explain Derek’s somewhat odd behavior when they started fake dating.  
Stiles was aware he was younger, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what he wanted. And how strongly he wanted it.

________________________________________

Stiles probably looked like shit. He was running on one hour of sleep and a lot of coffee. He knew that if he didn’t go as soon as possible to the loft, he’d chicken out.

He didn’t bother knocking because he knew that Derek never locked the door. He suspected that the door could no longer be locked for all the rust on it anyway.

He found Derek standing in the living-room portion of the loft, a mug of coffee in his hand. By the book opened on the sofa, he guessed he had stopped reading when he’d heard him arriving.  
Stiles realized that Derek was wearing one of his tee-shirts. The charade was finished, yet he was still wearing his tee-shirts. Like himself was wearing one of Derek’s Henleys.

“Look, I’m sorry for… kinda running away yesterday,” he began, since it didn’t seem that Derek was going to talk.

“You don’t have to apologize. You’d just learnt something upsetting.”

Well at least Derek wasn’t going to try denying they were mates. Good.

“That’s not why I left.” Derek’s eyebrows judged him. “Okay, I left because of that information, but not because I was upset. I needed some time to think. And also to research because it seems that someone wasn’t very forthcoming about something important going on, and for once it wasn’t Deaton.”

Derek opened his mouth but nothing came out. He put his coffee mug down. “Stiles, you’re eighteen…”

“Woah, no. You stop right here with the ‘you’re too young, you don’t really know what you want’ speech. It’s irrelevant where I’m concerned.”

Derek sighed, like he expected it. “Stiles, you…”

“When was the last time I acted like a brainless teenager?”

Derek tried to talk again. “Let’s not mention the time I put salt into Liam’s Coke last week. Let’s forget about that very childish display. Let’s remember all the times I came up with perfect plans after doing some very long and serious research and so helped saving everyone’s ass. Is this what most 18 years old do? Nope. I’ve not felt like a teen for a while, Derek. And for once, it’s a positive thing.”

“Stiles, be serious.”

“I’m serious. I’m dead serious. How long have you known? About me being your mate?”

“I didn’t realize… Not until we started exchanging our clothes and mixing our scents. The way I reacted… I could barely control my instincts around you. I knew.”

“So what, before that you thought you just had a weird attraction to me that you ignored because it was bad?”

Derek’s face said it all.

“Derek, seriously? Why didn’t you say anything? At least after realizing?”

“After realizing, it was like you were trying to avoid any physical contact with me. You refused to let me scent mark you, you were ill at ease when I sat with you in the chair, you refused to spend the night in my bed…”

“I didn’t want to smell like arousal around you. I didn’t want the humiliation. Also, I was trying not to jump your bones!” Okay, that had come out a little louder than intended. He wasn’t blushing, he wasn’t. Wait, were Derek’s ears pink? 

“I thought you were… repulsed by the werewolf side of me. Until yesterday.”

“I should have realized. You completely closed off when I refused the scent marking. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t do anything else at the time. I thought you didn’t… see me that way. But why would you think that? My best friend is a werewolf! Do I look repulsed by him?”

“He’s your friend. It’s a lot different from being a werewolf mate. As in _mating_. As in having sex. I don’t think you see Scott under that light?”

“Ew, no. I like him a lot, but noooo. And I’m not repulsed by your werewolf-iness. At all.”

“I saw that yesterday.” Was Derek’s voice an octave lower? Was it suddenly very hot in the loft? “But I guess that… as long as I thought you didn’t see me that way, things were simpler.”

“Because you could stay away from me and pretend I wasn’t your mate?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s why you looked so annoyed when Deaton said you had to be the one to fake date me. Because you were going to have to be close to me?”

Derek nodded. “Being close to you, thinking you didn’t see me that way… wasn’t easy.”

“If it’s any consolation, I know the feeling. Scott told me… The way I reacted yesterday to what Bailey said… that _you_ were _my_ mate too. But I’m human.”

“My parents were mates.” Derek rarely talked about his family. Those moments were precious to Stiles. “My father was human.”

“He was? Oh. I thought… I thought your parents were both super strong and powerful werewolves.”

Derek gave a little smile. “My father was strong and powerful. Stubborn, headstrong. Intelligent, resourceful. He also drove my mother crazy.”  
Derek had stepped closer with each word. “Stiles, I’m 24. You’re 18. Werewolves mate for life.”  
He suddenly stopped approaching, looking a bit startled as if he hadn’t realized he was doing so.

“Yes, I’ve read that about wolves. You know, humans can also mate for life.”

“It’s not exactly the same thing. The bond goes deeper for mates. You’re young, you’re inexperienced…”

“Oh my god, I don’t want to know how you know that.”

“You might want to meet other people…”

“Nope, you’re not finishing this speech either. I was ready to rip an Alpha’s head off because he’d bad mouthed you. I don’t see myself doing that for someone else. Look… The last two days… I was surrounded by your scent…” Derek gulped. “You were nice, you were patient with me. Spending the night here, waking up with you making breakfast… it was special. It was all very… domestic. And it wasn’t scary at all. It felt natural, Derek.”

“You really want to try this?” Derek’s tone was a bit hopeful. Also his voice was hoarse and it was… Stiles was glad he no longer had to try hiding the effect Derek had on him.

“Yeah. I want to. We’re both… We’re both a bit broken and we have our shadows. It can only work, right?”

Derek snorted, fond. “Only you would think that.” His eyes were twinkling. Stiles liked it a lot when Derek’s eyes did that. Also when he smiled.

“Aaand that’s why you like me!” Stiles spread his arms.

“Yeah.” Derek ducked his head. 

Stiles was under no illusion that a couple of years ago this would have been impossible. Their mindsets were both very different at the time. He realized that they’d already been mates then. When he’d recognized Derek at the edge of the forest, he was already his mate.

Stiles closed the distance between them. Finally he was close enough to smell Derek. “I’ve missed your scent.” Derek’s sharp intake of breath seemed very loud in the room. “Er, wrong thing to say?”

“No. Just… unexpected, given that you’re not a werewolf.”

“I started really noticing your scent when we began that whole exchange of clothes thing – which I’m not stopping by the way, it’s awesome. It’s an addictive scent.”

Their feet were touching. Stiles could count the golden flecks in Derek’s eyes.

“How do I smell to you?” Derek asked for the second time. Stiles suspected that this was the werewolf equivalent of Vulcans touching hands.

“Like I said, spicy and woodsy. Also musky and wild. Very wild. And comfort. Safety. Lust.” Derek’s nose touched his. “And how do I smell to you?”

“Moist earth, thunder, arousal, grass, citrus, ozone… mine.” Derek’s eyes flashed blue.

A flare of desire went through Stiles’ body, as if it was answering ‘yes, mine’.

“About that scent marking thing…”

“It’s something werewolves do with family and pack.”

“I don’t recall any of us doing that in the pack.”

“It’s because it’s a different kind of scent marking.”

“What do you mea…”

Derek started to drag his nose along Stiles’ throat. He was pretty sure all his brain waves flatlined at once. He could feel every exhale on his skin, creating goosebumps in their wake. Then Derek proceeded to gently rub his cheek where his nose had been. His eyes were tightly closed, like it took all of his concentration. He was biting his lip. There was a hint of fang there and it was… It was probably better than kissing. Not that he didn’t want some kissing in the future. Preferably in the very near future. Derek’s arms snaked around him, his palms spread in the small of his back.  
It was only the rubbing of skin on skin and Stiles was already impossibly hard.  
Derek’s rubbing was now up to his jawline so he angled his head for a kiss. He wondered if it was a good idea until he felt Derek responding, catching his bottom lip between his.

“Could I… Could I do the same?” he asked when the kiss ended. Derek pulled his body flush against his. He was obviously – very obviously – not the only one affected by this.

“What?” Derek looked as drugged on hormones as he himself felt. It was a good thing he was no longer concerned by how aroused he smelt.

“This.”

Stiles dragged his lips on Derek’s neck. His scent there was heady. He couldn’t begin to imagine how it was for Derek as a werewolf.  
He could feel Derek’s pulse under his lips, and it was going wild. It was incredibly empowering and flattering to know he could affect Derek the same way he was affecting him. The temptation to bite was very strong, so strong Stiles was salivating. He wanted to mark, to taste, but something was telling him that it was something big for werewolves and that maybe he should save that for later.  
Like Derek had done, he rubbed his cheek on Derek’s face, enjoying the feel of stubble on his skin. He started to think about where else he’d like to feel the burn and he had to restrain himself from rubbing himself all over Derek.

“Stiles…” If Derek moaned his name like that again he was going to come into his pants and it was going to be very embarrassing. He didn’t especially want to remind Derek that he was an inexperienced teenager. “I think… I’d like to take you to a few dates before going further, what do you think?”

“Well, it’s true that there wasn’t any dating in our fake dating scheme.” He put his arms around Derek too, just because he could. “Soooo, I thought mates were a myth, and it turns out it’s a real thing. I was wondering about other stuff I stumbled upon during my researches…”  
“Do I want to know?”  
“Well, you seem like a reliable source. So, do you have heats or ruts?”  
Derek’s eyebrows tried to escape into his hair. “Where the hell have you read this?”  
“I guess that’s a no. Er, I’ve also found something else. Do you have a kno…”  
“If you finish that question, I’ll rip your throat out with my t…”  
“Oh please, like it ever sounded threatening with your cute teeth.”  
“I don’t have cute teet…”  
Derek was interrupted by Stiles’ lips on his. 

________________________________________

After several dates to their favorite diner, to the movie theater, to Beacon Hills’ fanciest restaurant, to the city famous making-out spot (Stiles’ idea. Derek had rolled his eyes but then he’d enjoyed it. A lot) and a picnic in the woods around the Preserve, Stiles found out that indeed, Derek didn’t have a knot. He also found that he didn’t really care.


End file.
